


Heightened Senses

by fortunecookie



Category: The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: Cute, Diary, M/M, Pining, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-26 05:43:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1676879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortunecookie/pseuds/fortunecookie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.</p><p>Peter is a poet and Harry is his muse. </p><p>Set in the TASM2 universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heightened Senses

your talk should ring the warning bells  
but the drawl is making me drowsy  
with want-want-want

and i remember /just a little blurry/  
the promise you sounded before  
you left.

I’LL COME BACK  
I LOVE YOU PETER

seems like Morse code.  
i’m too afraid to decode it, to  
peel away your Prada layers again.

is it too late to smile hello into your tongue

——————

your eyes are suede shoes  
blue & vintage & so-phis-ti-cation  
trampling over  
my deoxygenated lungs.  
please walk away.  
when you look at me  
[gazing a parallel path to the hairs on my forearm]  
your cyanide eyes gLiTteR  
like they used to  
over razzle-dazzle lollipops  
your dad never let you buy

i buy you one from the 7-11  
just for kicks  
and you suck it slowly

i think my head will explode into a mess of webbed neurons soon.

——————

i was bored in elementary school once  
and i looked up your name  
HARRY: verb, “to persistently attack”  
you, Harry, are like a harry  
of memories

——————

your hands are a carnival  
busy, outrageously pretty.  
they look like you could wear a top hat  
and bow and not be out of place.

as you throw each pebble across the lake -  
every finger a taut tightrope  
of something between 

exhilaration | exhaustion

i hold my breath  
because  
do i have to buy a ticket to get let in  
(to whatever this relationship is)?  
your skin is dancing.  
even the knuckles are in proportion.

——————

Portrait of Harry Osborn, age 22

blow-dried hair and gunmetal eyebags and wet eyes and  
cherry pit lips and firm arms and scowling blushes and  
strong hugs and shaded faces and fast walking and  
witty talking and blazers-in-summer fashion and  
black dress shoes and sand bowl cuts and  
kissable jaw and harry and harry  
and harry.

**Author's Note:**

> Tis better to have loved and lost/Than never to have loved at all - Tennyson
> 
> A thing of beauty is a joy forever - Keats


End file.
